


So Long To All My Friends (Every One of Them Met Tragic Ends)

by Writing_Doodle



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (Ghoul has DID but it's not really a big deal), (it's just referenced), Angst, Better Living Industries, Blood, Dead Names (City Names), Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Gratuitous Use of Slang, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Gore, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Medication, Post-SING video (Bad Ending), Psychological Torture, Re-Education, There really isn't a happy ending, They do NOT have the band member's names because they are THEIR OWN CHARACTERS, This is heavy and angsty and I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Doodle/pseuds/Writing_Doodle
Summary: A voice echoed through his head. So clear that he almost thought someone was right next to him. He almost saw red hair, red hands, red clothes, red, red, red,so much fuckingred.He flinched away when the representative touched his shoulder. He lunged back and swiped at her with reflexes he didn't even know he had. He didn’t even think when his fist connected with her perfect nose. Red leaked from her face. Red was on his hand. Red on the wall. He wasn't even in the hallway anymore. He was in a room. He was in acell.“You can cut my hair. You can separate me from my crew. But you can’t fucking take color away from me.”He watched himself drag his hands against the white walls. Watched the red stains his hands left behind. His hands and wrists burned viciously. The fire spread all over. Every single one of his cells vibrating with the need to justfucking cover the white with anything he can.“My name isParty Poisonandyou can’t break me.”





	So Long To All My Friends (Every One of Them Met Tragic Ends)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this c. 2016 around the middle of the Killjoy Fandom Boom (ancient history, at this point) I decided not to make too many changes to kind of keep it a relic of the past. So it has a lot of headcanons and characterizations that I don't necessarily have anymore. 
> 
> It's not really finished, but what I had was complete enough to be its own thing and that's the most satisfied I can get with a dusty story I wrote when I was 17 and overdramatic. 
> 
> As I said in the tags - they all have their own names. I didn't give them the band names to reflect the fact that they're their own characters. So the names are: 
> 
> Party Poison - Jason Tanaka 
> 
> You'll figure out the rest later.

Jason didn't know what to think. He barely even knew why he was here, walking down the corridor of a prison, following a Better Living representative. He tugged nervously at the bottom of his shirt as he passed by the cells. He stopped when the representative sent him a sharp look.    
  
"There's nothing to be worried about, Mr. Tanaka." She said. "No one can hurt you from behind the glass and no one can possibly escape."    
  
"Why am I here?" He asked, glancing at the people behind the glass. They were all looking at him with mixtures of shock and anger. It made his stomach clench uncomfortably.    
  
"We already explained this, Mr. Tanaka." The woman said, with a fond, yet condescending smile. "We need to test your mental strength before allowing you to fully reintegrate with the good citizens of Battery City. You wouldn't want to have another breakdown, would you?"    
  
Jason stared at his shoes. "No." He mumbled.    
  
"Good."    
  
The lady stopped in front of a door and Jason continued to stare at his shoes as she punched in a code.    
  
"The people held in this area are the most dangerous." She said, with little to no inflection in her voice. When Jason looked up, she was looking at him peculiarly. Gauging his reaction. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.    
  
"So, if I can face them, I can face anything?" Jason hedged, keeping his face as blank as possible.    
  
"In a way, yes." The representative smiled, pleased. Jason let himself smile back, happy that he got the right answer. "You will be given a few minutes to talk to each of these prisoners. If, after a week or so, you don't show any signs of wearing down or cracking again, you're free to go."    
  
It seemed far too good to be true. "I hope I don't disappoint, then." He said, bowing his head slightly.    
  
"Oh," The woman smiled again, sharper this time, deadlier. Jason felt his own smile waver slightly. "I'm sure you wont. Come along, now, Mr. Tanaka." She turned heel and walked down the hall with a grace that seemed too artificial to be human. Jason followed close behind, well aware of his relative clumsiness.    
  
He glanced into more cells, only to find them empty. "How many people are held in here?" He couldn't help but ask.    
  
"Only three." The representative said, not sparing any glance back at him. "The most elusive terrorists Better Living has ever seen: The Fabulous Killjoys."    
  
The name sparked something in the back of Jason’s head, but when he opened his mouth to mention that, the spark was gone. He frowned. "I've never heard of them." A nagging feeling somewhere deep inside him told him that he  _ did _ , but he couldn't place  _ where _ .    
  
The representative laughed and it sent chills down his spine. "Of course you have, silly. You watch the daily news reports, right?" The condescending smile was back.   
  
"Of course." He said, slightly more defensive than he meant to.    
  
"Well, then you'd know that they've been the talk of the news for the last few days."    
  
Jason thought back to the rec room with the TV and the people talking loudly over it. Thought back to the news stations with the permanently smiling hosts. It always felt wrong, seeing them. He didn't know why. He just knew he always expected to see or hear someone else.    
  
He never  _ watched _ the news. He just stared at the screen. Maybe he did hear them talk about these terrorists, he just didn't acknowledge it.    
  
"Oh." He mumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry for saying something so dumb."    
  
"It's fine, Mr.Tanaka. I understand if you can't recall things quite perfectly yet. The side effects of your medication take some time to get over."    
  
"Yes." He agreed absently, looking back at the empty cells. "Sometimes it just feels like I'm surrounded by fog."    
  
The representative clicked her tongue, turning a corner Jason barely noticed. "If that persists, inform the nurses immediately. It wouldn't do us any good if you aren't fully aware of your surroundings."    
  
"Of course." Jason finally noticed that they both stopped walking. "Is this it?" He inspected the steel door with some level of incredulity. It all seemed to be a bit too excessive. Though, if these people were as dangerous as the representative implied, maybe it wasn't.    
  
"Yes. Inside there will be a chair for you to sit on and a buzzer to ring if things get too intense for you. I will be standing out here, so you won't feel too much like you're being watched."    
  
"Thank you." He said, with surprising levels of sincerity. The fact that he wouldn't be monitored was... nice. He couldn't remember the last time he didn't have someone watching him closely.    
  
The lady smiled, more genuinely than he's seen before. She nodded towards the door, prompting him to go ahead. "I'll inform you when it's time to leave and move on to the next person. Afterwards, you'll be allowed to go back to your room and rest. We understand how draining this might be."    
  
Jason smiled and nodded, turning towards the door. A sign was placed on it, reading: DANIEL "FUN GHOUL" RUSSO.   
  
"Fun Ghoul?" He asked, not bothering to hide the traces of amusement at the ridiculous nickname.    
  
"Ah, yes. The Killjoys had quite...  _ creative _ code names, don't you think?"    
  
"Creative is a word for it." He smiled, happy to know that the representative thought it was ridiculous too. He pushed the door open and walked inside.    
  
The room was sterile. White. It was huge, with a thick sheet of glass separating Jason's half from the prisoners. A singular chair sat in the middle of Jason's half, as promised. The prisoner was sitting with his back pressed against the glass, facing away from the door. All Jason could see was his greasy black hair - cut short, but slowly growing out - and his white uniform that marked him a prisoner. A danger to society.   
  
The door slammed closed and the prisoner - Daniel. That was what it said on the sign, right? - leapt away from the glass wall so quickly it nearly gave Jason a heart attack. The prisoner - Daniel - reached at the side of his pants for something, before realizing whatever it was wasn't there. With a wave of fear, Jason realized that he was intending to reach for a gun.    
  
Daniel seemed to deflate slightly, after realizing where he was. Jason sat in the chair, carefully watching the person in front of him. He looked shorter than he anticipated - surprisingly small in his oversized white uniform.    
  
Daniel sagged against the opposite wall, still refusing to look at Jason. He had tattoos running up and down both of his arms. "What do you want, this time?" The man croaked, voice rough and shot from disuse or... something else Jason didn't really want to think about. (screaming?)    
  
"I'm not really sure." Jason answered, semi-truthfully. He knew that he needed to speak with this man for a few minutes to test out of his therapy's been effective or not. Other than that, he really didn't know. What was he supposed to talk about? What was supposed to happen?    
  
At the sound of his voice, the man whipped around so fast, Jason nearly jumped back and fell out of his chair.    
  
He never imagined a face to go with what little of the body he saw, but whatever he didn't imagine was nothing like what he saw. The man - boy, really - was so  _ young _ . Much younger than he should be, given the fact that he's supposedly one of the most dangerous terrorists out there. For a brief moment, he couldn't imagine that someone so young could be so dangerous. Then, Jason, forced himself to move past the man's age and actually  _ look _ at him.    
  
Suddenly, he could imagine him being dangerous.    
  
The prisoner's eyes were wide in an almost animalistic state of shock. There was a flicker of something deep inside them that Jason could only describe as chaos. There were little holes all over his face - mouth, nose, eyebrow - that suggested he once had piercings there, before he was captured and incarcerated. His ears had similar holes, though much larger and more stretched out. None of those held a candle to the ghastly scar running from the side of his mouth across his cheek. A jagged half-smile permanently etched into his face.    
  
Jason felt himself unconsciously lean back in his chair. The prisoner, meanwhile, walked closer. Slowly, like an animal who couldn't tell if a person can be trusted. He looked Jason up and down, shock and disbelief not leaving his face. Eventually he made it to the wall. He pressed his hand against the glass.    
  
"Party?" He whispered, voice more watery than the gravel from before. With a start, Jason noticed tears running down the prisoner's cheeks.    
  
"I'm sorry?" He asked, looking around the room quickly. Avoiding the stares of the man in front of him. The word felt familiar. For a fleeting moment, he almost answered to it. Now, he was just confused about what Daniel meant. Was this a part of the desert slang he halfway listened to the representative talk about?   
  
The man pressed his hand harder against the glass. "Is that you?" He asked. "What did they...? What did they fucking do to you?"    
  
The profanity made Jason flinch back a little. In all honesty, he should've expected it. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."    
  
With that, something in the prisoner seemed to shift. His wide eyes narrowed and his tears stopped flowing. He wiped his cheeks dry and Jason had a nagging feeling that he was suddenly staring at someone completely different.    
  
"Those bastards." Daniel hissed, voice suddenly less watery than it was a second before. Back to gravel. "Those fucking bastards!" He punched the glass and Jason flinched back. Daniel noticed, but it only seemed to make him angrier. He pushed himself away from the wall and paced wildly. "Fucking drifts and designers. Pavement eaters and sand munchers. God DAMN IT." He kicked his sparse bedding with enough force to knock it into the air and Jason almost reached for the alarm.    
  
The second Daniel saw his hands move to the button, he stopped and the wide, watery eyes were back.    
  
"Please-" His voice cracked brokenly. "Poison? Party? Destroya,  _ please _ ."    
  
Jason realized that those words were supposed to be a name. He thought back to what he saw on the signed.  _ Fun Ghoul _ . The Killjoys had ridiculous code names.    
  
"I'm sorry." He repeated. "You must have me confused for someone else. My name is Jason."    
  
Those last two syllables seemed to break the person standing in front of him. In an instant, he was sagging against the glass. Barely supported by his feet, until they slipped from under him and he tumbled down onto the concrete floor.    
  
"I didn't think it would be possible..." Daniel peeked at him again, through his greasy bangs that only just started to grow in. "You don't recognize me, do you?"    
  
Slowly, Jason shook his head. He did look vaguely familiar, but it was probably from the TV. At that, Daniel started laughing. Painful, full body laughter that he couldn't seem to control. He curled in a ball, shaking wildly from the force of it.    
  
"Fuck!" He cried, flipping himself onto his back. He stared at a very specific point in the ceiling. When Jason followed his gaze, he noticed that the ceiling panel was just slightly different from the rest. Shinier, somehow. A camera. Daniel stared at the camera as his laughter calmed down, as his body stopped shaking. "That's how it fucking is, then." His voice was gravelly again.   
  
Jason didn't know what to say to that, so he sat in silence. His hand hovered over the button, but for reasons he can't comprehend, he never pushed it. He just stared at that pathetic lump on the ground until he heard a sharp knock on the door.    
  
He stood up, just as Daniel pushed himself off the ground. He was back to pressing his hands against the glass, staring through him with sharp, wild eyes. The grin etched into his face made him seem even more deranged that he probably was.    
  
"So, you're just gonna sit there all porcelain for a few inches? That's fine. That's fucking shiny,  _ Jason _ ." Daniel grimaced at the name as if he was just forced fed a handful of dirt. Jason felt almost violated with how his name was chewed up and spit out.    
  
Daniel continued, a smile spreading across his face, made all too wide by the scar. "Tell Mom and Dad that their favorite child is still grounded indefinitely."    
  
Jason nodded minutely, before turning around and walking out of the room. As soon as he was out of the room, exhaustion hit him like a speeding car. The representative was standing there, looking at him expectantly.    
  
"Well?" She prodded. "How do you feel."    
  
"Tired." Jason answered, honestly, despite an irrational voice in his head telling him to lie his pants off.    
  
The woman frowned, examining him and the weight that seemed to hang on his shoulders. "It might be within our best interests if we continue with this at a later date. It was a mistake bringing you to him first." She gave the door a distasteful look. "He's one of our most... undesirable prisoners."    
  
"I can tell." Jason felt like he had a layer of dirt under his skin just being in the same room as the guy. Now that he was away, every grain was noticeable and it took the rest of his energy to keep him from freaking out over the sensory overload. He understood why he probably needed to do this. If he's freaking out from  _ this _ , what's to keep him from freaking out over anything else?    
  
"Did he say anything you find interesting?" The representative said, walking down the hallway. Jason slowly trailed after her.    
  
"Before I left. He said, 'I'm still grounded,' or something to that effect."    
  
"I see."    
  
Jason detected annoyance in her voice, but he didn't think much of it. He didn't even remember much after that. The hallways were a blur of white, his shuffling feet was nothing more than a vague memory in the back of his mind. He blinked and he was laying in his bed, as was promised to him.    
  
His head pounded and his limbs felt nonexistent. Numbness extended from the tips of his fingers and toes, to his shoulders and hips. He faded in and out, fog slowly ebbing. The feeling of dirt being washed away with every cycle of consciousness. He woke up with a plastic cup of water and a small row of pills. He took them automatically, mechanically. Reflex, at this point. When he faded back into consciousness, he was awake and alert. The dirt under his skin was gone and, soon enough, he forgot why he even felt that way in the first place. 

* * *

In no time at all, Jason was back to trailing behind the Better Living representative. When he glanced into the cells, he noticed that there were less people than before. He didn't know what to feel about that, so he ignored the discovery. He stared at the pure white floor and tried not to think. A familiar stop. The sound of buttons being pressed. He was walking again. They made a different turn than last time. Jason lifted his head, opened his mouth to question it, but the lady beat him to it.

“We’re skipping Mr. Russo today. You’ll be talking to the next person. If you can handle that, this time, we’ll head back.” 

“Ok.” Jason said, nodding his head. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt as inconspicuously as he could and he let his eyes stray to the empty cells and steel doors. He stopped walking as his eyes landed on a particular door, but he barely acknowledged it. 

“Mr. Tanaka?” The representative asked, when she realized he stopped walking. She turned around, face clouded with worry when she saw the door he was looking at. “Mr. Tanaka?” She asked again. 

Jason didn't hear it. Jason was far away. 

_ “You can’t break me, motherfuckers!”  _

An eerily similar voice echoed through his head. So clear that he almost thought someone was right next t him. He almost saw red hair, red hands, red clothes, red, red, red,  _ so much  _ **_fucking red._ **

Jason flinched away when the representative touched his shoulder. He lunged back and swiped at her with reflexes he didn't even know he had. He didn’t even think when his fist connected with her perfect nose. Red leaked from her face. Red was on his hand. Red on the wall. He wasn't even in the hallway anymore. He was in a room. He was in a  _ cell.  _

_ “You can cut my hair. You can separate me from my crew. But you can’t fucking take color away from me.”  _

He watched himself drag his hands against the white walls. Watched the red stains his hands left behind. His hands and wrists burned viciously. The fire spread all over. Every single one of his cells vibrating with the need to just  _ fucking cover the white with anything he can.  _

_ “My name is  _ **_Party Poison_ ** _ and  _ **_you can’t break me._ ** _ ”  _

He wasn't in the cell anymore. He was back in the hallway, laying on his back. He didn't remember falling down. Every time the representative attempted to come closer, he kicked out. Every part of him was screaming at her to stay away from him, but he didn't know why. His fingers found their way into his mouth and he dragged them across the floor. Smears of red were left behind. He twisted them, painting patterns only he could decipher. 

_ “My name is Party Poison and you can’t break me." _

_ “My name is Party Poison.” _

_ “You can't break me, motherfuckers! You can’t break me!” _

“You can't break me!” Jason didn't realize he was speaking out loud. Screaming. His throat burned. His whole body burned. He was crying, he didn't know what he was doing. Didn’t know what he was saying. 

“You can't break me, you can't break me, you can't break me.” 

More people came running down the hallway. White suits and masks and guns and  _ oh Destroya they’re here for me.  _ He scrambled up only to be knocked back down. He felt someone kneeling on his back, felt his hands get restrained. He kicked and screamed and fought and spit and tried desperately to escape. 

“ _ You can’t break me!” _ He screamed. “ _ I won’t let you take me again _ .” 

 

_ Again? He was taken before?  _

“ **_I won’t let you take me again!_ ** ” 

He didn't even know why he was fighting. Why didn't he just give up already? He kicked harder, fought harder. He wished he had a zap so he could just blow all their brains out and  _ run, fucking run. He needed to find his crew.  _

_ “Jet!” _ His throat was so torn up, it barely came out. “ _ Kobra! _ ” He choked over his own voice, the words were barely recognizable.  _ “Ghoul!”  _ He kept screaming and fighting, until he felt a needle get jammed into his neck. In an instant, his movement slowed down. The air turned into syrup and the fog rolled in. He fought until he could barely move. With a numbed mouth he mumbled, “You can’t break me.” 

He felt himself get dragged down the hallway. He watched his chewed up fingers leave a small trail of blood behind him. He was vaguely aware of the representative watching him. Hand over her nose, fear and disappointment in her eyes. What’d he do? What happened? 

His head lolled to the side, his cheek scraped across the floor. The fog built and built until he could barely see anymore. His mouth moved, sloppy and half formed words tumbling out. “Fuck. You did it. You broke me.” And after that, it was dark. 

The last thing he heard, before he lost himself completely, was, “We can’t risk this happening again.” 

Then, he was gone. 

* * *

He was trailing behind the Better Living representative. She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn't talk to him, like she she used to. Jason was filled with the sense that he did something wrong, but he was too scared to ask what it was. He had bandages on his fingers, but he didn’t know how he injured them. A doctor said he had a breakdown. He didn't know when, or where. When he asked if it would impede his recovery, the doctor just smiled. His question was never answered. 

Still, he followed orders. He followed the representative down the halls. Waited as she punched in the code. Followed. She turned a corner that was vaguely familiar, stopped in front of a door that was even more so. He fought through the ever present fog to recall whose door it was. Someone he already met. 

Daniel? Wasn’t it?

He hasn't met anyone else, yet. 

The representative stopped in front of the door. “Ten minutes.” She said, for the first time since he’s arrived at the building. She still didn't look at him. Didn’t see him nod politely and enter the room. The cell. 

Daniel was waiting for him. Hands pressed against the glass, as always. Jason frowned, slightly, feeling vaguely like this was all so familiar. How many times has he visited Daniel? He couldn’t remember. It was too hazy. He figured it must have been a lot. There was something different, though. Daniel’s eyes weren't as crazed as they were last time. ( _ Times?) _ They were… hopeful. As Jason sat in his chair, he wondered why.

They stared at each other. Neither moving or daring to break the silence. Jason felt the seconds tick by. If this kept up, his session would be over without him saying anything. He liked the idea of that. 

Then, Daniel opened his mouth. He asked, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You were screaming.”

“No I wasn’t.” 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Not right now, 8-bit. A… while ago. A week? Yeah, a week ago. You were screaming. You called for me.” 

Jason shook his head, confusion scrunching up his face. “I don't know what you’re talking about.” 

Daniel didn’t say anything. He narrowed his eyes and examined Jason. When he was done, the curious hope in his eyes was gone. “Oh.” He backed away from the wall, hands now hanging at his sides. “I see.” 

There it was again, the shift. The feeling that he was talking to someone else. Daniel’s shoulders were squared, his back straight. Gone was the looseness of before - he stood like a machine. Jason thought briefly about asking the representative about it. Then again, with whatever he did wrong, he probably didn't have the privilege of asking questions anymore. 

“What type of game is this?” Daniel asked, voice and face free of the emotions that consumed them before. “Why do you keep coming back?”

Jason shifted in his seat. “They say it’s to test me. If I’m good, I’m done with my therapy.” He wondered if he was allowed to say that. Nothing was stopping him, so he figured he was. 

Daniel rolled his eyes, this time with considerably less fondness and more irritation. “Fucking idiot.” 

Jason bristled slightly, but he bit his tongue. It wouldn't do any good to get in a yelling match with an inmate. Daniel walked to his bed and laid down, hands tucked behind his head.

“You might as well leave, because I'm not going to talk to you and neither are they.” 

Jason hesitated. “They…?” 

Daniel groaned. “Take a wild fucking guess, genius.” 

Jason really didn't know what to guess, so he just sat there until his time was up. When he heard the knock, he stood up and walked to the door. 

“Hope you enjoy being a lapdog, Poison.” Daniel spit at him. 

Jason turned around, feeling a flash of white hot emotion he didn't know he had anymore. “That's not my name.” The words were hurled back with no less venom that the ones thrown at him. Daniel looked, for lack of a better word, stunned. Then, slowly, an artificially too wide smile spread across his face. 

Something shifted again, but Jason was out of the room before he could figure out what it was. The representative looked at him expectantly, all he could do was shrug. 

The woman nodded, then began to walk. Jason followed close behind. After a few seconds of mulling it over, he asked, “What's wrong with him?” 

“You’ll have to be more specific.” The woman smiled, as if she told a joke. 

“Why does he… shift.” Jason felt stupid explaining it like that, but it was the only way he could describe it. 

“Mr. Russo has what we call Multiple Personality Disorder. It's nothing extensive therapy and medication can't fix, but he’s very difficult when we try to administer treatment. It's almost as if he doesn't want to be fixed - isn't that just ridiculous? In other words, whenever this ‘shift’, as you call it, happens, you’re basically talking to another person.” 

“I see.” Jason mused, looking back down at his shoes as he processed the information. “That… makes a lot of sense now, actually.” 

“The desert folk,” The woman said. “Are, simply, broken. So broken they don't even know that they are. So used to their defects that they don't even want to consider the fact that they can be Better. Isn't that sad?” 

“Yes.” Jason answered, frowning slightly. A part of his brain told him that the representative was full of shit. The rest of his body screamed at that part to shut up and stay quiet. 

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't notice the representative stopped walking. He turned around, confused. Was this his next stop? He went to ask, but stopped when he saw the woman's face. She looked - apprehensive? Scared? Automatically, his eyes flickered to a door. Then back at her. Was she scared of the door? Whoever was inside? 

“Who’s in there?” He asked, before he could stop himself. 

The woman shook herself out of it. She laughed slightly, almost at herself for stopping. “No one anymore, Mr. Tanaka.” She paused, mouth twisting with uncertainty. Eventually she added, “His name was Party Poison. He was apart of the Killjoys.” 

“Party Poison?” Jason mumbled, staring at the door. It looked vaguely familiar. “Daniel’s called me that a few times.” 

“You do have a passing resemblance to him, I'll admit. The prisoners are desperate, as I'm sure you can tell already. They’ll try to hold on to anything they can.” 

“Hm.” Jason spared another glance at the door, before looking back to the representative. “Is that it?” 

He didn't know why the representative looked so relieved, but when she started walking he followed her without questioning it. The door was long forgotten behind him. 

* * *

ANGEL “JET STAR” MARTINEZ

That was the name he read as he approached the door. That was the name of the person standing in front of him, now. Eyes  _ (eye) _ wide and jaw slack. 

“I thought I heard you screaming.” The man started, already tripping over his words. He continued, voice rising steadily. “I didn't think- I thought I was finally going crazy. You-” He continued to stare at Jason in disbelief. “Party?” 

Jason, though he hated to be the bearer of bad news, shook his head. “Sorry, but you got the wrong guy. My name is Jason.” 

Angel froze. Then backed away from the glass slowly. “This is… this is some kinda sick joke, right? You guys… you all had a fucked up sense of humor. It's not funny.” He shook his head and Jason got a brief flash of wild, curly hair swinging along. He frowned, wondering why he got that image. Angel’s hair was short. Sheared near to the top. 

“I don't know why you’d think this is a joke.” Jason shrugged. “I don't have a reason to trick you, or anything.” 

Angel looked at him, eyebrows furrowing. He looked frustrated, confused, angry. So many messy emotions that made Jason’s mouth twist with distaste. 

“Why are you here, then?” Angel asked, cautiously walking back to the glass. He put his hand against it, but it was less desperate than Daniel. Angel’s touch was soft and… longing. 

“I'm just here to talk.” Jason smiled, trying to defuse the tension that built up in the room. He liked Angel, so far. He wasn't as volatile as Daniel. He seemed more… normal. 

His smile only seemed to agitate Angel, though. He removed his hand from the glass and walked back to his bed. He sat down, slowly, eyes  _ (eye) _ not leaving Jason. “What are we talking about?” The calm in his voice was fake, Jason could still detect the distress behind it. It was a valiant effort, though. One Jason appreciated. 

“I honestly don't know.” Jason shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I've never gotten this far, before.” 

Angel’s expression was torn between fondness and despair. It was a strange combination. “Before? Have you been talking to anyone else?” 

“Only D… Ghoul.” Jason didn't know why he hesitated. Why he said his code name rather than his real one. It was probably nothing. He ignored it. “He wasn't this easy to talk to.” 

Angel huffed out something that might've been a laugh under better circumstances. “Yeah, he’s… he's like that.” 

“He was quite volatile.” Jason agreed, happy that he was at least  _ talking _ . 

Angel’s eyes  _ (eye)  _ narrowed. “Yeah.” 

The conversation fell and Jason wondered if he said anything wrong. With the silence, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the elephant in the room. He didn't want to say anything stupid, but… He was curious. (Curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?) 

“What happened to your…” Jason trailed off, unable to make himself say it. 

“My eye?” Angel answered, absently touching his right lower eyelid. The socket was bloody, but empty. “Accident, when I was a motorbaby. Hell, I wasn't even that, yet. Neutral. Border dispute. Bye-bye, eye.” He was frowning, his singular eye clouded with a sadness Jason couldn't name for the life of him. “You should know that.” He whispered, just barely loud enough for Jason to hear. 

He chose to ignore that. “If it happened that long ago, why is your eye still all… y’know. Bleeding?” He strayed a glance at Angel’s uniform, old and relatively new bloodstains standing out against the white. 

Angel caught him staring and glanced down as well, face twisting into a scowl. “Fuckers won't even change it. Want to keep it like this as a reminder.” He shook his head in disgust. “BLI wants to fuck with me. I don't let them.” 

“What does that have to do with…”

“BLI wants to fuck with me.” Angel repeated, motioning something getting put in his eye. “I don't let them.” He mimed ripping it out. 

Jason saw the blood crusted around his eye, his uniform, and underneath his fingernails. It all clicked and, suddenly, he felt like throwing up. “You…? Oh my god.” 

Angel smiled and, suddenly, all notions of him being normal were out of the window. “I've lived without an eye for most of my life and they think I need to be fixed.” 

“I don't understand.” Jason said, voice rising with panic and disbelief. “They were only trying to help!” He thought back to what the representative said. How the desert folk were  _ ‘So used to their defects that they don't even want to consider the fact that they can be Better.’  _ He thought she was full of shit, but he was wrong. She was so horribly right. 

Angel looked like he was just slapped. Disbelief so obvious on his face it was almost funny. Then his expression darkened into fury. “You, of all people, saying that…” He stalked up to the glass wall. “What the fuck did they do you?” He pounded against the glass. His voice was so full of hysteria and anger and  _ sadness _ that Jason’s head spun. “ _ What the fuck did they do to you? _ ” 

Jason scrambled back with the force of his voice. His chair toppled from underneath him and, suddenly, he was on the floor. His hand hovered over the alarm, but, for some reason, he didn't press it. Angel rested his forehead against the glass, breathing heavily. He looked up at Jason, at his hand hovering over but not quite pressing the alarm. His body sagged and he sighed deeply. 

“You're not Party.” He said. There was something unspoken in those words. Something left out that Jason couldn't quite grasp. 

“No, I'm not.” Jason confirmed. He slowly removed his hand from the alarm. He stood, brushed himself off, took the chair, and straightened it again. He sat down. “I'm sorry.” 

“It's not your fault.” Angel said, detaching himself from the glass. He backed up and sat against the opposite wall. “It's theirs.” He stared at Jason, examining him. Jason tried to not feel creeped out by the empty eye socket. 

“You'd look better with a prosthetic.” He blurted, instantly feeling ashamed as soon as the words left his mouth. “I'm so sorry, that came out wrong. I meant…”  _ What the fuck did you mean?  _ “The lack of an eye is a bit…  _ unsettling _ .” 

To his surprise, Angel laughed. He didn't stop laughing, even after it passed what was socially acceptable. Well, he was from the desert wasn't he? Social norms must be different there. He thought back to Daniel briefly. Social norms were  _ definitely  _ different there. Eventually Angel stopped laughing. He mumbled something Jason couldn't catch, then he said, “I'd look better with an eyepatch, but they took that away from me, too.” 

Jason opened his mouth to say something, he didn’t know what, but then he heard knocking on the door. He stood up, automatically. Then, he hesitated. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t know why, but he just didn't want to leave. Angel gave him a sad look, a thin smile.

“You better go.” He said, softly. 

Jason nodded, a flash of distress running through him, but he didn’t know the source of it. Another few knocks, sharper this time. Each seemed to clear away the distress. The force that kept his feet planted to the ground. He turned around and walked towards the door. At the last second, he looked back. Angel couldn't act quick enough wipe away the tears from his face. Jason looked away quickly and walked out of the room before he could fully process what he saw.

He felt… heavy. 

“You took quite some time leaving the room.” The representative observed. When Jason didn’t answer, she asked, “Are you ok?” Concern tinged her voice. He couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not.

“No.” Was all he could say.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don't know.” He really didn’t. There was something in his chest that felt tight. His eyes burned. He felt… he didn’t know.  _ He didn’t know. _

The representative looked him up and down and said, “Let’s head back. You did good, Mr. Tanaka. You deserve some rest.” 

Jason nodded, but he still almost didn’t follow her when she started walking away. 

“Jason?” She called. 

He snapped out of it and started walking. This was familiar. Him trailing behind her. Staring at his shoes, soaking in the white walls and floors. It was familiar. He tried to ground himself in that, but he couldn’t. Something fought against the familiarity, something fought for him to run back to Angel’s room and smash the glass and-

_ And what? _

Without thinking about it, he clungd to the sleeve of the representative - like some  _ child. _ She jumped, terror flashed in her eyes, until she noticed the state he was in. He was shaking, crying. He felt so far away from everything. Her expression softened into something almost like pity. She patted the hand that was clamped onto her sleeve. “You’ll be okay, soon, Mr. Tanaka. This will pass.” 

It should’ve comforted him, but it didn’t. The words just went right through him. 

He felt-

He felt so  _ lost.  _

* * *

 

_ “This is too much for him. He keeps breaking down.” _

_ “We just need to adjust his dosages. He’ll be fine.” _

_ “Maybe we’re going too fast?” _

_ “Is my hearing failing me, or are you questioning us?” _

_ “...” _

_ “I thought so. Progress is going remarkably fast. Two out of three of the prisoners are showing a significant decrease in rebellious activity. We continue as normal.” _

_ “Yes ma’am.” _

* * *

“Did you know that BLI’s developing a way to remove tattoos?” Was the first thing that left Daniel’s mouth when Jason walked through the door. 

Jason barely had time to process the fact that Daniel was actually talking to him. “What?” 

“Look,” He said, before hiking up his shirt with no warning. Jason’s face heated up instantly. He turned to look away, before something caught his eye. Right above the waistband of Daniel’s pants was a huge mess of scar tissue. Huge blotches of white covered most of his stomach, creeping up his ribs and chest like an infection. “Isn't it fucking awful?” He added, letting his shirt fall back down. 

“It's…” Jason really didn't have any words. 

Daniel smiled bitterly, his scar tugging it further on one side. “They haven't perfected the tech yet, so they say. I think they're just fucking with me. There's no way they'll let it look that bad somewhere people’ll actually see it.” 

“You don't… seem too upset.” Jason said, hesitantly looking at his smile and general demeanor. 

“Smile through the pain, Party. It's my fuckin’ motto.” Daniel laughed. For a brief moment the smile dropped and all Jason saw was pain and fear. The smile was back as soon as Daniel noticed it fell. 

Jason chose to ignore that. Tried to not feel too sympathetic. “I'm not Party Poison.” 

Daniel perked up a little. His smile became a little more genuine. “You know the name, though.” 

“They told me. I'm not him.”

Daniel didn't seem too convinced. “I don't underestimate BLI’s ability to fuck shit up. Even the strongest crash queen can get fucking totaled.” 

“Why are you even talking to me, again?” Jason asked, diverting the question so he won't have to focus on it anyway. It was getting old. Irritating. 

Daniel at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry about that outburst last time. Fun’s a… jerk.” He paused and stared at the camera hidden on the ceiling briefly, before continuing. “They must've told you by now, huh?” He sounded irritated and yet resigned. 

“Yeah.” 

“Fuckers probably didn't even take the time to explain it right either.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “Whatever, doesn't matter anymore. Rat’s out of the bag or some shit. I’m fucked up!” He kicked the ground and scowled at the tiles. 

Jason never knew what to say when he was around Daniel. When he was around any of them. Daniel continued to stare at the tiles, his face looking more blank than it was earlier. After another few moments, Jason asked, “Daniel…?” 

In an instant, Daniel’s head snapped upwards and Jason flinched back. His eyes were full of fire, again. “You don't get to fucking call me that. My name’s  _ Ghoul _ and  _ Daniel  _ died a long time ago.” The fire left quickly, though. For some reason, Jason felt a pang of pity. 

“I'm sorry… Ghoul.” Jason had to fight to get the name out of his mouth. It was too unnatural. Too ridiculous. 

Daniel (Ghoul?) shook his head. “S’not your fault.” There was a shift. He frowned, looking at Jason with a profound sense of sadness. The frown was strange to see, with the scar twisting one side of his mouth upwards. It didn't look natural - in more ways than one. The silence that hung over the two of them was suffocating.

Jason heard a knock. As he sat up and walked towards the door, Daniel called out. “Hey,” 

Jason paused and turned around. “Yeah?” 

“Tell me if you see any tattoos disappear, okay? I…” He smiled weakly and, suddenly, he looked so small. Fragile, almost. “I probably won't be able to remember them.” 

Jason hesitated. He wasn't allowed to do requests for the inmates. Still, he found himself nodding. “Okay.” 

Daniel closed his eyes and nodded. He walked to his bed, not sparing another look in Jason’s direction. 

Jason exited the room before the representative could knock again. 

* * *

“Who was Party Poison?” 

Angel, who was previously staring at Jason nervously, looked shocked. “What?”

Jason hesitated, but continued. “You thought I was him. Dan- Ghoul thought I was him - still believes I'm him. Both of you were devastated when you realized I wasn't him. Why? Who was he?” He looked down and laced his fingers together, squeezing tightly. He tried not to look up at Angel. He was already nervous about asking the question - he didn’t think he could take actually waiting for the answer. 

“Party was…” There was a long pause. Jason steeled himself for whatever he might see and looked up. Angel was staring into space, lost in thought. He looked melancholy, yet still happy just thinking about this ‘Party’ guy. The juxtaposition made Jason’s head spin. How can someone be happy and sad at the same time? Angel seemed to collect himself. His eye didn't look as cloudy, he was back in the present. He looked at Jason briefly, a frown forming on his lips. Jason looked back down, not wanting to face all of this emotion. 

Angel continued. “Party was… a good person, I guess.”

Jason laughed sharply. “He was a terrorist. You all are.” It was easier to say things like that when he was staring at his hands. It was easier detach himself. 

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right.” There was acceptance in Angel’s voice. A tired, quiet acceptance. “Good isn’t the right word, but I don't really know what to say. There’s too much to say. He was an asshole, sometimes. He tried not to be, he really did, but sometimes things would bubble up. He’d get overwhelmed and carried away. He hated himself for it, but he tried to make up for it by being the nicest fucking person out there. Excessively nice, stupidly nice.” Angel laughed weakly. “He was a fucking idiot.” 

Jason didn't understand how he could sound so  _ fond  _ saying that. “I don't want to know that.” He did want to know that. “I just want to know his place in your gang. What was he to make all of you react how you did.” 

Angel chuckled quietly. “ _ Gang.”  _ Jason could almost see him shaking his head. He wanted to look up and see if he was right, but he kept his eyes trained on his hands. “We weren’t a  _ gang _ , we were a  _ crew _ . There’s a difference, but I guess the city doesn't make that distinction. Poison was our… Well, not really. Everyone  _ thought  _ he was our leader. He was really just the one that got into everyone’s business. He was a nosy motherfucker.” 

“Who was the leader, then?”

“There was none. No one could really seem to understand that, I guess. We were all equally important in decision making. Hell, we barely even made decisions. Decisions require planning and we rarely planned anything. We were - are - just a bunch of dumb kids flying by the hood of our car.” He sighed. “I guess that was our downfall. Rash decisions and never planning ahead.” 

Angel went quiet. Jason refused to look up and see what happened. What he was doing. He clenched his hands together a little tighter. 

“What’s so interesting about your hands?” Angel asked, eventually. Voice soft and genuinely curious. A bit sad, but everyone was sad weren’t they? He couldn't blame them, being in prison didn’t seem like fun.

Jason didn't know how to answer that. He barely understood why he refused to look at Angel in the first place. “You confuse me.” Was what he settled on. 

“I confuse you?” Angel sounded amused. 

After a half a second of fighting, Jason caved and looked up. Angel was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall and smiling. It was the most genuine smile he’s seen since he started this entire thing and it almost broke his heart. His stomach clenched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t know what he was feeling. It was strange and terrifying. “You confuse me.” He repeated. 

Angel laughed. Jason’s stomach clenched tighter, but he couldn't look away now that he looked up. Angel tilted his head and asked, “How can I possibly be confusing?”

Jason didn’t want to explain it. He had the sinking feeling that Angel would understand whatever it is. For some reason, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to know. He didn't want  _ Angel _ to know. “Who was Party Poison?” He asked again, deflecting the question. 

Angel’s smile slipped slightly. Something almost like understanding flashed in his eye and that terrified Jason. Angel looked away and seemed to stare into the past. “Party was… the most important person in my life. He was  _ everything  _ to so many people. I was everything to him, too. That’s someone no one, ‘cept for Kobra maybe, can really claim. But it was different between us. I… we…” He lost his words. 

Jason started to put the dots together. “Were you together?”

Angel laughed, somewhat watery. “That sounds so sterile. We were, I guess. There isn’t an equivalent to it in the city. At least, that’s what Party’s always said. It was more than just, like,  _ dating _ or some shit. I kept his feet on the ground, but he let me see the sky.” Angel sighed. “I loved him.  _ Love _ him.” Jason couldn't begin to explain the look Angel gave him. “I miss him.” 

Jason felt shaken by those words. Severely. He just didn't know why. 

* * *

The representative was standing in front of him - not talking, not moving. Her hands were carefully folded in front of her, but Jason saw that she kept biting her lip. He waited for her to say something, to start moving, to do  _ anything.  _

“Are you…” She began, before cutting herself off. She paused for a while longer, examining Jason and weighing her words. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright.” Jason answered, after a half second of hesitation. He didn’t know if he was  _ alright _ per se, but he didn’t feel  _ bad. _ The longer he was out of that room, the better he felt. The less confused and shaken. The representative bit her lip again, as if she didn't believe him. “How are  _ you  _ feeling?”

She laughed, slightly startled at him throwing the question back at her. “That’s none of your concern, Mr. Tanaka, but… I’m alright, too. Do you think you are well enough to visit the last person?”

Suddenly, Jason felt cold. He almost forgot about the last person. “Yes,” He said. 

The representative nodded. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she almost looked disappointed. She started walking and he followed her. 

He had no idea what type of person this would be and he tried to keep his imagination under control.  _ Tried. _ He couldn’t help but wonder. Would he be more like Daniel? Or more like Angel? Aggressive and vulgar, or calm and quiet? Somewhere in the middle? He tried to push away the questions, the wondering. It wouldn't do him any good, working himself up before he even met the last person. Still, he found himself clenching his hands almost painfully by the time he stopped in front of a door. 

KOBRA KID

Jason stared. “Is that it?”

“He wouldn’t tell us his name and we couldn’t find any records on hand.” The representative’s voice was tinged with… something. Jason couldn’t place it, but he didn’t like the feeling it gave him. “It’ll do, until we get the information we need.”

“I see.” Jason stood there, unsure if he  _ really _ wanted to walk into the room and meet the prisoner. He gave the representative a nervous look, an opening for her to let him leave. All she gave him was a blank stare. He looked back at the door, swallowed down the fear that curled in his stomach, and walked into the room. 

He almost didn't see the prisoner at first, with the way he was curled up in the corner. Jason didn't have much time to observe his position before the door slammed closed and the prisoner’s head shot up. Jason jumped at the suddenness of the motion, almost tripping over his feet as he walked to the chair waiting for him. The prisoner’s eyes were wide with disbelief and Jason prepared himself for the whole routine. 

“I fucking knew it.” 

That… wasn't what he was expecting. Jason opened his mouth to question, but he was cut off. 

“They always looked so smug when they came for me. I knew something was up. I fucking  _ knew.”  _ The prisoner detangled himself and stood up. At once, Jason was struck by how tall he was. All curled up, he seemed so small. The prisoner - Kobra? Stupid name - staggered toward the glass wall, but stopped a cautious distance away. He examined Jason up and down, rage and disgust all over his face. “I can't believe this. I can't fucking-” 

Kobra looked away, shaking his head viciously. “Those fuckers… Those…” He turned to Jason again, something in his expression cracking. Distress leaked out from the fury. “ _ You _ . You promised.” 

“I didn't promise anything.” Jason said, wanting to stop this conversation before it could go further. “I'm not Party Poison.” 

“Oh, I fucking know you're not  _ Party Poison.  _ Not anymore.” Kobra glared at him, but Jason got the sense that it wasn't at  _ him.  _ That Kobra was glaring at whatever imaginary Thing he thought was looming behind him. “Whatever the fuck they did to you doesn't matter. Doesn't change anything. You  _ promised. _ ” 

“What did I promise?” Jason sighed, resigned. 

“ _ You promised me that you;d kill yourself before they can change you again.”  _ Kobra turned and punched the wall so hard that he heard a sick crack echo through the room.

Jason was… well, stunned was the only word that came to his head, but it wasn't strong enough. Shocked? Disturbed? Terrified? All three mixed in a weird concoction of emotion that made him sick to his stomach. He stumbled out of his chair and backed away. “Why would I promise something that that?” 

Kobra stared at his hand, face blank. Slowly, he massaged it, directing his even gaze at Jason. “I made you… I guess that wasn't fair of me. I think I knew you probably wouldn't, but… I hoped. You probably just wanted me to shut up and stop worrying.”

“What could you possibly be worrying about where someone promising to  _ kill themself  _ would be comforting?” 

“You don't fucking know! You don't understand. You don’t… remember.” Kobra deflated slightly. He combed his hand through his dirty black hair. “You don't remember how bad you were. Back when we were kids. You… I still get nightmares from it, from time to time. You weren't you. You never were afterwards, I guess.” He shook his head. “You were so  _ blank.  _ You were  _ nothing.  _ And now… it's happened again.” He backed away from the glass, slowly. As if he was afraid that Jason would run if he made any more sudden movements. 

Something about that pissed Jason off. He wasn’t some…  _ mouse.  _

His blood ran cold. He found himself backing away, too. 

_ (“Don’t freak out, mouse.”) _

_ (“Who are you calling mouse, rat?”) _

_ (“Oh, I  _ like  _ you.”) _

_ (Ink stained hands messy hair smeared lipstick the smell of aerosol paint broken windows pills being flushed down the toilet fear raygun fire running running he was running he never stopped running the Sand the Sun the Heat the Witch what the  _ fuck _ was he running from?? white. whitewhitewhitewhite and pain and pain and p a i n-) _

Jason almost stumbled over his own feet. His head was screaming at him and it was  _ so cold.  _ He was shaking, why the-

Kobra’s expression was neutral, but a small traces of hope shined through the cracks in the stone. Wrong, it was  _ wrong _ . How could he read his face so well? Why did he look so familiar. Kobra Kid Kobra Kid  _ Kobra Kid _ was his…?

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Kobra observed.

“I- I’m not… I’m not Party Poison.” Jason’s voice was shaky and hoarse. Barely a voice. It felt wrong, everything felt wrong. The room burned his eyes. It was too  _ bright  _ and  _ sterile.  _

“You don’t sound too sure about that.” Kobra walked to the glass. “What are you feeling, Jay?”

“I never… I never told you my name.” Jason’s breathing quickened. “Everything feels  _ wrong _ and my head  _ hurts _ and I feel like I'm… I'm too big for my body.” He clutched fistfuls of his hair and tugged. “ _ What’s happening?” _

“Something good. Those feelings aren’t bad. They’re painful, but they’re not  _ bad. _ ” Jason almost looked like he was listening to him, but then Kobra put his hands on the glass and the look shattered. 

“Stay away from me,  _ stay away-” _ Jason tripped in his haste to further the distance between them. The fall didn't help his disorientation in the slightest. He scrambled blindly until his hands were on the alarm. “This is your fault.”

“Poison,  _ please _ .”

Jason looked up and Kobra looked afraid. Well and truly terrified. That resulting mix of emotions he felt seeing that only strengthened his resolve. Something was  _ wrong _ and he was going to  _ fix it _ . “ _ That’s not my name.”  _ He growled as he pressed down as hard as he could. 

In an instant all of the lights were red and an alarm was blaring. Kobra was cursing more colorfully than Jason’s ever heard in his life and Jason… Jason felt detached from everything. The sound aggravated his headache and the red was too familiar, but he didn't know  _ why- _

( _ “I swear you do this on purpose.” _ )

( _ “What? No… It’s not my fault hair dye’s so messy…”) _

_ (“Motherfucker, this was my last good shirt.”) _

_ (“Aw, lighten up, Star. Red looks good on you.”)  _

Jason whimpered against the fresh wave of pain that rolled through his mind and radiated down his entire body. He felt like all of his cells were on fire and he was burning away layer by layer. He curled in on himself and squeezed his eyes shut. He heard footsteps rushing down the hall. Heard the door crash open. He was fading. He was fading, he was fading… 

<

He felt someone touch his shoulder lightly and he looked up to see the representative. Her face was clouded with worry.

“Let’s get you home.” She said, pulling him up. He didn't even think, he just clung to her and let her move him away. Away from all  _ this. _ He barely noticed all of the guards that flooded into the room. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W’s. There was a lot of noise. Kobra was yelling. 

“His home isn't a cage! His home is in the Zones surrounded by the Sun and Sand! He isn't some lab rat, not anymore!” 

There was a few muffled noises, like someone getting hit. Kobra kept yelling, his voice rough and strained. 

“He’s my fucking  _ brother _ and he’s stronger than you think he is!” More noises. Kobra coughed wetly. “No matter how much you polish it, porcelain’s gonna crack eventually.”

The last sound Jason heard was the low hum of electricity. Kobra’s screams were cut off when the door closed. 

Then, it was silent. The only sounds were Jason’s heavy breathing and the representative’s soft reassurances that everything will be okay. That things would be better next time. 

He breathed and tried to keep breathing. He focused on placing on foot in front of the other. On letting the representative lead him away. Away from the mess behind him.

He…

He wanted to go back, though. He wanted to break away from the representative and run back and- what? Fight the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W’s? Help Kobra? Help the  _ terrorist  _ that caused all of his? What was  _ wrong  _ with him?

“What’s wrong with me?” He whispered.

The representative gave him a pitying look. “Nothing is wrong with you, Mr. Tanaka. You’re stressed and confused. I told them that they were moving you too fast. This type of reaction is natural.”

“Everything hurts.”

“We’ll fix that. It’ll all be okay.”

Jason sagged against her and hoped that she was right. 

* * *

_ “We can't keep doing this! We’re unraveling months and months of careful reeducation, just to make a point!”  _

_ “Keep up this insolence and you’ll be the next one sent to the Tube.” _

_ “What are we going to do? He remembered, ma’am. He was starting to actually remember.” _

_ “And yet, he still pressed the alarm.” _

_ “He was confused, disorientated-” _

_ “We still control him. We still have a hold on him. We just need to tighten it. A month of therapy. More suppressants. He’ll be like clay in our hands again.” _

_ “He never will be clay in our hands. He never  _ was.  _ Is this really worth all of the expenses?”  _

_ “Luke Tanaka broke.” _

_ “... what?” _

_ “He cracked. The invincible Kobra Kid cracked. We’re on the right track. We keep going.” _

_ “... Yes, ma’am.”  _

* * *

_ He was dreaming, he knew it.  _

_ He was sitting in the middle of the desert and the sun was beating on his face. He should’ve been terrified. He’s never been to the desert. The desert was dangerous. The desert was full of criminals and anarchists and terrorists.  _

_ He was calm, loose,  _ relaxed.  _ He felt like he was home.  _

_ He put his hand in the sand and felt the grains between his fingers. It was comforting. He felt safe, safer than he’s ever felt. His hand and arm were tanned and covered in layers of dirt and dust. He examined his hands as if he’s never seen them before. Clenched and unclenched them until he was sure they were his. Dirt was crusted under his chipped and broken fingernails. His fingers were covered in calluses and his knuckles were scabbed over and bruised. Beads and charms were wrapped around his wrists and red dye covered his palms and the pads of his fingers.  _

_ They weren't anything like how they were. How they should be.  _ His _ hands were pale and thin and clean. They didn't have any scars or blemishes. They were perfect. The hands he was looking at… they were worn and ugly. He clenched and unclenched them again.  _

_ They felt right, somehow.  _

_ He looked down at himself and found that he was wearing next to nothing. Just a pair of ratty shorts and large tank top with arm holes so large they exposed most of his chest. He should’ve felt embarrassed at how exposed he was. Should’ve felt some sense of shame. He just felt comfortable. Free.  _

_ A shadow loomed over him and he looked up, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the now lack of light.  _

_ It was Angel. His hair wasn't sheared to the top anymore, it was a huge mass haloing around his head and falling down to his shoulders. Wild and curly like a lion’s mane. A large eyepatch covered his right eye. There wasn't any blood running down his face, or staining his clothes. He wasn't wearing a white prisoner’s uniform, he was wearing dusty black pants with an equally dusty black shirt. He looked… so much  _ More  _ than he’s ever seen him. He still had shadows under his eyes and a few grey hairs from stress, but he looked so much lighter. Happier. Stronger. More solid. This wasn't  _ Angel _ , this was  _ Jet Star. 

_ Jet was looking down at him with a wry smile. “What’cha starin’ at? Already whispy on the sun, Poison?” _

_ He - Poison? - felt a smirk tug at his lips. “Drive side street, Star. I’m just enjoyin’ the view.” He made a show of looking Jet up and down until he was blushing.  _

_ “Alright, alright, I get it.” Jet sat down next to him and elbowed him roughly. “You’re ridiculous.” _

_ “You still love me.” Poison stretched out and rested his head against Jet’s shoulder, batting his eyelashes dramatically.  _

_ Jet shoved him off with a laugh, “Witch knows why. If Ghoul and Show weren’t around, you’d be the most obnoxious person I know.” _

_ “So what you’re sayin’ is I need to be more obnoxious?” _

_ Jet rolled his eye, leaned over, and kissed him. Poison’s eyes fluttered shut as he pressed forward and deepened the kiss. It lasted for a while, before Jet pulled away. Poison slowly opened his eyes and smiled. “I don't think I'll ever get tired of that.” _

_ “Good, ‘cause you're stuck with me. Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.” Jet laid on the sand with a small grunt.  _

_ This time it was Poison’s turn to roll his eyes. He joined Jet, not caring about the sand that got in his hair and clothes. He blew a stray clump of bright red hair out of his face and stared at the sky. It was a deep blue with no clouds in sight. It seemed to stretch forever, as endless as the desert. “S’beautiful.” He mumbled, turning his head towards Jet. _

_ Only Jet wasn’t there.  _

_ Poison scrambled up faster than he could blink, kicking sand everywhere. “Star?” He cried out into the empty desert. He spun around, trying to look for him. “Jet Star!” It was dark, everything around him saturated in blues and blacks. He looked up and all he saw was stars and satellites. When did that happen? _

_ That’s when he remembered he was dreaming. He almost forgot, didn't he?  _

_ As soon as his heart rate calmed down, he noticed a building in the distance. As he walked closer, he realized it was an old diner with an abandoned gas station in front. It was almost haunting, seeing a relic from the past in the middle of a wasteland. It looked familiar, though. It looked like… It looked like a home. He brushed his hair out of his face again and noticed that he was wearing fingerless gloves. He looked down and his entire outfit was different. Dirty white pants and a blue leather jacket that’s seen better days. He still had the beads and charms on his wrists. He ran the beads though his fingers, grateful that  _ something  _ was familiar.  _

_ (It was all familiar, though, wasn't it?) _

_ Someone was smoking in front of the diner, next to the empty BLI vending machine. He approached them cautiously, relaxing a little (why?) when he noticed it was just Daniel. _

_ Except it wasn't Daniel. His hair was as greasy as ever, but it was long. It stuck against his face like tendrils of oil from a spill. He wasn’t wearing his prisoner’s uniform. Instead, he wore black pants with a large hole ripped at one of the knees, a black and yellow striped shirt, and a ragged green military jacket. The glow of the cherry from his cigarette cast shadows on his face that emphasized the scar carved into his cheek. The scant light was reflected off all of his piercings. This wasn't Daniel. This was  _ Fun Ghoul.  _ No... just  _ Ghoul.  _ There was a difference, he remembered.  _

_ When Ghoul noticed him standing there, he smiled his lopsided smile and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Look what the cat dragged in.  _ I’m _ supposed to be the one that wanders off without warning.”  _

_ He wordlessly flipped Ghoul off and leaned against the wall next to him. Ghoul offered him a smoke and, without thinking, he took it. Ghoul tossed him his beat up, barely working lighter and he lit the cigarette like he actually knew what he was doing. It’s strange, he thought as he tossed the lighter back. He felt like himself but it was also like he was a completely different person. His actions were his, but they were also so automatic he felt like he didn’t have any control.  _

_ He was a different person. He was  _ Party Poison. 

_ Poison blew out a stream of smoke. “Couldn't just light my cig like a real friend?” _

_ “That’s gay, bro.” _

_ “ _ You’re  _ gay, genius.”  _

_ “Only for your brother.”  _

_ Poison choked on the smoke in his mouth and coughed as Ghoul laughed like a fucking hyena. “That's-” Hack. “Not-” Wheeze. “Funny, you  _ dick. _ ”  _

_ “Nah, your face was hilarious.” He was still giggling and Poison wanted nothing more than to deck him. Then suddenly, the laughter stopped. He asked, “Where were you, man? Everyone was worried.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft. _

_ Poison trained his eyes on the horizon and kept them there. “I don't remember.” _

_ “Oh, man. At this rate, you’ll end up like me.” _

_ “Don’t sell yourself  _ short _ -” Poison laughed when Ghoul socked his arm. “You still win the grand prize of bein’ the most fucked up out of all of us.” _

_ “Thank Destroya.” Ghoul said sarcastically, crushing his cigarette into the ground with his boot. Poison followed suit. It was quiet. Not quite stifling or awkward, just… silent. It set Poison on edge, like something was going to happen any second now. _

_ “You’re jumpier than a crash queen on three cans of mystery blast. What’s eating you?”  _

_ Poison sighed deeply and crossed his arms, almost hugging himself. “I don't know… There’s a storm coming.” _

_ “There’s always a storm. We always make it through, don't we?” _

_ “Not this time.” Poison whispered. “The Witch’s Luck runs out eventually.” _

_ Ghoul considered the words and shrugged. “Then let’s pray that we go out with a bang.”  _

_ Poison blinked and it was day again - the sun shined high in the sky. Ghoul wasn’t standing next to him, he was a ways away tumbling in the sand with a little girl. She was around six or seven, with curly brown hair and mismatched clothes and loud, shrieking laughter. Dust kicked up around them and Poison smiled fondly.  _

_ “I don't understand how he’s so good with kids when he's also the biggest asshole in the Zones.”  _

_ Poison turned his head to see Kobra standing next to him, arms crossed and watching the mock scuffle. His hair was bleached and sunglasses covered half of his face. He wore a tacky yellow zebra striped tank top and black pants that were caked in dirt like everything else. His face was blank, but Poison knew he was happy. He didn't know how, but he  _ knew.

_ “You’re dating that asshole.” Poison pointed out. _

_ Kobra’s lips quirked in a small smile that was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Yeah, guess I am.” More laughter reached them and Kobra sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “I better go break it up, before she accidentally breaks his nose again.” _

_ “I’m not so sure that was an accident.” _

_ “Dude, she was, like, five. There’s no way it was on purpose.” _

_ “She knew, man. She  _ knew. _ ”  _

_ Kobra laughed and shoved him. “You’re awful, dude. I’m going.” _

_ Poison reached out and grabbed his shoulder until he could move too far. Kobra froze and looked back at Poison with a frown.  _

_ “What’s wrong?” _

_ He didn't know. He didn't know, but he didn't want to let go. He couldn’t bring himself to. Around him the scene melted away. The diner, the gas pumps, Ghoul and the girl, the desert - all gone. All that was left was Poison and Kobra floating in a sea of nothingness. Kobra was back in his prisoner’s uniform. White cotton hanging off his frame as if he was a skeleton. Gaunt cheeks, sunken eyes, black hair hanging in his face.  _

_ Poison still couldn't let go.  _

_ “But you did.” Kobra said.  _

_ Poison couldn’t speak. _

_ “You let me go. You didn’t remember me.” Kobra grabbed Poison’s arm, fingers digging so tight it hurt. “You called security on me. How could you do that?”  _

_ Poison tried to fight out of the grip, but Kobra only held on tighter. He felt bruises start to form.  _

_ “I'm your  _ brother _. Do you even know my name, anymore?” _

_ Poison found his voice. “K-Ko-” _

_ “No.” Kobra let go and Poison’s arm fell limply at his side. “You don't remember. How can you forget your own brother?” _

_ Kobra started to fade away like everything else. Poison tried to hold on, but his hands only slipped through. “No- no!” _

_ “What do you care?” Kobra’s voice was like static. He was almost completely gone. A ghost, a ghost of a skeleton. “It doesn't matter anymore, you’re too far gone.” _

_ “No. NO.” Poison was alone, now. Kobra was gone. Everything was  _ gone _. “Kobra- no, I didn't forget. I remember, I remember. Please, come back. Kobra- Luke, please.  _ Please _.” _

_ He was just scrambling and trying to hold onto nothingness. Even as  _ that _ started to collapse around him he kept trying to hold onto something that wasn't there. The dream fell apart and suddenly  _

Jason woke up. 

He stared at the white ceiling and didn’t even try to fight against the fog at the edge of his vision. Didn't try to chase the dream he thought he had and then

It was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> a comment would be peachy


End file.
